


time changes everything except something within us

by JaneScarlett



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 07:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3801922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneScarlett/pseuds/JaneScarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor was the Doctor; and she always knew him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	time changes everything except something within us

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a quote from Thomas Hardy. Much thanks to Natalie and Sarah for the beta and encouragement.

There comes a point in trying to maintain a conversation with someone unresponsive, when eventually patience fails and you long to snap at them; and River had reached that moment five minutes ago. She’d been trying to get more than single-syllable answers and vague murmurs out of her husband for the last hour... ever since he'd shown up on her doorstep, all but shoving a bouquet of asters into her hands and muttering _‘it’s me, the Doctor’_ … as though he hadn’t expected her to recognise him. And while his wording did suggest that his face was rather new to him at the moment; of course, she recognised him. The Doctor was the Doctor, even when he regenerated; and she always knew him.

She even knew that for all her conversational efforts, trying to talk to him when he was like this was a fruitless task, and a frustrating one. It drove her mad when he got emotional, closing himself off and shutting his thoughts away as though trying to hide from her... but it was even worse when he did that, _plus_ avoided her eyes as he was doing now. Walking around her kitchen to fiddle with the knobs on the toaster, wrinkling his nose at the washing up in the sink, poking about the contents of the cupboards. 

River sighed loudly, hoping he would get the point. Kitchens simply weren’t that fascinating. And he certainly hadn’t come to see her only to investigate the burners on her stovetop. There was something on his mind. Shadows hidden in his eyes... but until she could force the words out of him -why he was there- River had a feeling they could wait in uncomfortable silence all evening.

Too bad for him she wasn't the patient sort. Not really; and she finally sighed again, walking over and reaching past him for a canister on the counter.

“I'd fancy a drink,” she said. “What about you, sweetie? Coffee with cream, no sugar?” She’d phrased it as though it was a question but it wasn’t. She knew him, this him; and the Doctor hesitated, looking cautiously at her. 

“Coffee?” he asked, as though testing her. “Not tea?”

“Coffee,” confirmed River. “As you’re remarkably un-English these days.” She couldn’t help teasing him, and he grumbled.

“Yes, well. Apparently I’m Scottish now? New mouth. New rules.” He twisted up his face, touching his lips self-consciously. River smiled, reaching over to pat his cheek gently.

“You’ll get used to it, Doctor.”

“Of course I will.” He looked annoyed. “I’ve done this before, you know.”

“Quite a bit.”

“And I’m hardly a novice at regeneration, River.” 

“I didn’t say that you were.” She was trying to keep her voice light and placating -compared to his rising in irritation- and focussed on what she was doing. Water in the reservoir, coffee grounds in the filter. She could feel his eyes on her; watching every move, deliberating what to say.

“Do you miss it?” The Doctor’s voice was softer, but no less irritable. River looked up at him in confusion.

“Do I miss...?” she asked gently, not certain what he was referring to. He shrugged, eyes skipping away from hers.

“Don’t be slow, River. It doesn’t suit you. You know I mean: do you miss…” His hand was fluttering to his buttoned-up collar, self-consciously smoothing down cropped greying hair that no longer tumbled headlong into his face. He tugged at the lapels of his jacket, scarlet lining flaring for a moment against the stark monochrome of the rest of his garments.

“Everything,” he finished, sounding a charming combination of young and ancient and grumpy. “The bow tie. The hair I couldn’t get under control for almost three hundred years. The laughing… because I have to warn you, River. I don’t think I can even smile anymore.”

She bit back a grin of her own at that, letting her gaze drop to her hands for a moment. Oh, her Doctor. A liar in all his regenerations; because she knew that he certainly did still smile and laugh. Those joyful expressions were rarer now, though; and infinitely more precious by how rationed they were.

(Except around her. The Doctor would always smile around her. No matter his face.)

“You laugh on the inside now,” River finally said, looking back up at him. “It's other people's fault if they don't see that.”

His eyes went wide, startled by her words. As though he was surprised that she knew something about him that even he hadn’t realised until that moment. He nodded curtly, clearing his throat to cover his confusion.

“You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured huskily. “But I still have to ask because I know I'm not the man I was, then. And I needed to know...” He reached his hand out for her; but before she could lay her fingers in his, he pulled away, as though afraid for her to touch him.

“Tell me, River? Will you,” said the Doctor, meeting her eyes for the briefest moment before looking away again, “miss _me_?”

“Oh, sweetie…” River let out a breath she wasn’t even aware she’d been holding, turning to face her husband fully, relieved to know what was wrong. She reached out, ignoring his slight flinch at the feeling of her fingers against his cheek, her hand sliding up to cup his jaw in her palm to force him to look at her; amused to see that he was still trying to avoid looking directly at her. It was a bit like a puppy who had misbehaved… which was very much a mannerism of his previous regeneration and not this current one.

And yet. Old or new; the Doctor was always the Doctor, and some things would remain the same. At least when he was with her.

“First of all,” said River, “don’t ever call me slow again, or I’ll show you how fast I can be with a gun.” Despite his assertion that he didn’t smile anymore, she felt his cheek twitch beneath her fingers, his lips curving imperceptibly.

“You’ve tried to shoot me before.” _And then chose to save me_ , was his obviously unspoken end to that sentence. 

River nodded. “But last time, you didn’t call me slow. Don’t ever think you can speak to me like you do everyone else. I promise,” and she dropped her voice lower into a feral whisper, “I won’t appreciate it.”

He looked bored and not the least bit chastened at her words; but she knew him. Knew that his apology was in how he relaxed enough to lean his cheek into her palm, turning his face slightly to brush his lips against the side of her thumb; and River relented, smiling.

“And second?” he demanded, his voice a little more gentle.

“The second is that you’ve only changed your clothes. And your face.”

“And I drink coffee without sugar...”

“Not a bad thing, that. I always did wonder,” mused River thoughtfully, “how much of your previous mannerisms were due to a constant sugar high.”

He scowled, grumbling under his breath; and River laughed.

“Hardly the point though, sweetie. You’re still the Doctor. My Doctor… and did you only come here today to see if I wouldn’t know my own husband? Just because he changes what he’s got on?”

He finally looked at her, straight at her. Beneath heavy brows, his blue eyes stared into hers intently, as though he thought with the power of his gaze alone, he could tell if she was lying. She could have cried at his expression: lost, frightened, hopeful.

“Clara didn’t know,” he mumbled. “Kept wanting me to come back. And I regenerated right in front of her.”

“Clara is your companion. But I’m hardly that, sweetie.”

“No. You’re not.” Quick as lightening, his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her into him. They were close to the same height, now. Much less space for him to lean down into her, capturing her lips with his own as her arms twined around his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue touched the opening of her lips tentatively before probing deeper, her mouth opening wider of its own volition as she welcomed him. She could feel his mood shifting as he kissed her; at once less lost and more settled into himself.

“Wife.” His breathing was harsh as he pulled back slightly, the word gruff and tender at the same time.

“Husband,” murmured River, her arms still around his neck. 

It felt like he was searching, as he kissed her again. To see if she tasted the same; his mouth trailed hot paths down her neck, roughly pushing aside the neckline of her blouse to nibble for a moment on her collarbone. Small kisses, lower and lower across the swell of her cleavage, one hand impatiently sliding into her bra, kneading her breast, pinching her nipple hard to make her gasp.

“Always liked it a little rough,” he muttered, lowering his head to catch her nipple in his mouth, sucking hard for a moment before letting his teeth graze over the sensitive nub. River’s fingers slid through his hair, cradling the back of his neck as she pulled him closer.

“You did,” she whispered. He raised his head to look at her; and she could imagine how she must look to him. Cheeks flushed and hair haphazard around her face, her chest rising and falling beneath her rapid breaths.

“I didn’t…". He looked embarrassed, and she could tell he was remembering long-past nights in the TARDIS at each other's mercy. She grinned wickedly at him; loving the way his forehead crinkled, and his lips twitched slightly upward when he saw her expression.

“Don't distract me,” growled the Doctor. “I didn't mean me... what about you, River? My wife, always with the handcuffs. Intent on pushing me onto any possible surface that might support our weight and shagging me across time and space.” He shook his head, as though exasperated; but she caught the glint of humour in his eyes.

“And you loved it too,” challenged River.

He didn’t answer in words. But he picked her up, not even staggering beneath her weight as his younger self often did. River sighed, feeling the wiry strength in his arms as he cradled her to his chest, walking them toward her bedroom, depositing her gently on the bed before going back to close the door. She scrambled up -her hands already busy unbuttoning her blouse, pulling off her bra- when he turned back to her, and she stopped, concerned by what she saw on his face. There was a way his eyes wrinkled at the corners when he was thinking of something that upset him; his forehead crumpled and lips sunken into a frown.

“You weren’t surprised,” said the Doctor. “When I got here.”

“No,” said River. “I knew it was you.”

“Yes,” he said, slowly. “You did. But that's not what exactly I wanted to know, River."

He had a twisted look on his face as he surveyed her. Thoughtful. A little worried... and River shifted uncomfortably. Sensing, somehow, what he wanted to know... and wishing she could prevent him even asking.

“Faces,” murmured the Doctor. “They come to you. Random…sometimes not. Have you seen this face before?”

It felt like a draught on the back of her neck. The answer was yes… she’d been consulting with Kate over at U.N.I.T. headquarters and talking about the few situations when the Doctor didn’t intervene, when she’d begun idly leafing through the files on the 456 and the visage of John Frobisher leapt off the page; surprising her –because she knew this Doctor already- and horrifying her at the same time. Frobisher: an elevated paper pusher both ruthless and victimized; a fall guy for the British Government in their mishandling of the situation; a murderer trying to do the best he could, who in the end, wanted only to save his family.

The Doctor watched her, cautiously; and she hoped her thoughts were emblazoned across her face. She didn’t want to tell him. She _wouldn’t_ … because privately, she’d never had any doubts the Doctor had known of Frobisher, had known the situation, had run from the Earth because there was nothing he could do and probably still felt guilt that even one child had to die… 

But she’d be damned if she’d confirm it.

“The answer is yes, then,” said the Doctor softly. “You always know, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter who wore that face before,” said River quickly. “It’s yours now, to do with what you want. And of course I know you.”

His mouth twisted wryly. “And do you know this too then, River? Clara didn’t… just as she looks at me and sees a stranger, even if she won’t admit to it. Am I a good man? Even knowing whose face I’ve stolen… who am I now?”

She scrambled off the bed, rushing over to him. Oh, but she loved him. Every him and every face; but especially this one. His last self had been precious and clever -perhaps a little vain- and in love with living and young… In what he thought would be his last regeneration, the legacy of his lonely childhood had come out. He had wanted to be adored.

But this Doctor. He was the same as he’d always been, but tempered by a vague shyness beneath his stern exterior, uncertainty hidden by sarcasm. River sighed, stretching on tiptoe to kiss his chin, the tip of his nose, his cheeks. The pale column of his neck, and right below his ear, where she could feel his pulse jumping beneath the soft press of her lips.

“Once,” she whispered, “I was put in prison for killing the best man I’ve ever known.”

“And you were pardoned,” refuted the Doctor, “when it was proven that he never existed.”

“Semantics, sweetie. And not my fault he managed to erase himself from time afterwards.” She kissed his lips softly, again and again and again until he was kissing her back.

“No matter your face, Doctor. It’s your _eyes_. It’s what I can see when you look at me… in them, I’ve always seen the best man I’ve ever known. And I will _always_ know you.”

He gave one small, ragged sigh. She could feel tears –his? Or her own?– when he rested his cheek against hers, his fingers caressing down her back, moving restlessly over the curve of her hips, cupping her bum and pulling her tight against him. She wriggled, loving the feel of his erection hard and hot, pressed right against her; as he bent his head, kissing her, walking her one backwards until they fell back onto the bed, still entwined.

There were times throughout their lives together when they actually indulged in leisurely lovemaking. Hours -days even- spent in a parked TARDIS, kissing and caressing, delighting in each sigh and murmur.

But River had always secretly loved the more frantic moments, as it was right now. His skin, soft under her lips as she kissed down the lean planes of his body. His hands sweeping her curls back from her face so that he could watch as she knelt over him; the little strangled moan that he made – always made– as she hollowed her cheeks, sliding his cock into her mouth before looking up to meet his eyes, withdrawing only long enough to sweep her tongue over the head and back down again. That moment when he had his fingers clenched into her hair and he was thrusting into her mouth, so close to a climax that he was almost babbling; because really, the Doctor never could shut up. (She always wondered if he knew she was rather fond of that; the swear words hissed out in every language that he knew, interspersed with murmurs of what he was going to do to her in return and how much he’d always adored her.)

The Doctor groaned suddenly, urgently tugging at her shoulders until she released him slowly, reluctant to stop. He slid his hands down her body, pausing to tweak one nipple, then the other until she moaned; and his fingers dipped down between her thighs, spreading the slick folds there easily until he could press against her, rubbing small, quick circles until she was breathing as hard as he was, her hips bucking wildly beneath his hand.

“Sweetie,” she panted, reaching out to curl her fingers around his shaft. He nodded as she climbed on top him, sinking down with a little hiss of pleasure; which the Doctor echoed as he slid one hand onto her hip, guiding her movements. River closed her eyes, arching her back as she rocked back and forth, revelling in the feel of him inside her, his fingers still circling rapidly around her clit. She felt electric, as though she could feel sharp sparks everywhere their skin touched, driving her closer and closer to a climax.

He pulled her down toward him the moment she screamed, her entire body trembling as he claimed her lips in a kiss. He thrust hard up into her –once, twice- before shuddering, wrapping his arms tight around her. She could feel his hearts racing, the quadruple beat echoing the frantic pace of her own, as their breathing finally slowed. River sighed happily, willing to disentangle their limbs; but as the Doctor showed no signs of wanting her to move, she ended up lying half on top of him, still. Her head on his shoulder, his leg thrown possessively over hers, their fingers entwined.

“Well?” asked the Doctor softly. 

She could hear in his voice what he didn’t want to ask. Later on –because this Doctor was hardly a stranger to her– there would be adventures still to come for them; dates and running and lazy evenings wrapped around each other in the Vortex, and quick shags across time and space. But she’d been right initially that this entire visit had been for a reason. To assuage his worry of himself, and see if his wife would still know him; still love him, despite how he’d changed and who he might be now. 

River opened her eyes briefly, tilting her head back enough to see him watching her. She closed her eyes again, fighting to keep a smirk off her lips.

“That was nice,” she murmured.

“Nice?” said the Doctor, sounding indignant.

“Pleasant, thank you.”

She knew it wasn’t fair to tease; but he was so much fun. Grumbling beneath his breath that at least he’d told her she was amazing when she’d come back to him from the Library. She wasn’t any different at all… but now that he’d changed his face, all he got was _nice_?

River raised herself up on her elbow, leaning over him with her lips centimetres from his.

“How about fantastic?” she asked, punctuating each word with soft kisses.

“Amazing would be better,” countered the Doctor. The fingers of his free hand wove through her curls, holding her face close to him.

“You always are.”

“Always?”

She could hear that last little bit of uncertainty in his voice, the final vestige of worry that he wasn't the man she'd married anymore.

“You’re more than whatever clothes or face you wear,” River whispered, kissing him again. “My husband; always the best man I've ever known. And he should know that it would be impossible to miss him when he's right in front of me.”

He'd said earlier that he didn't smile anymore, and River had known the words for the lie that they were. No matter his face, her Doctor would always smile at her... And she was right; because her husband smiled at her -shyly, but broadly- and utterly content for the first time that night.


End file.
